


Here Comes Tomorrow

by BoStarsky



Series: Soft Bois [9]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: A little big of angst for the Bois, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, shit happens, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 11:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoStarsky/pseuds/BoStarsky
Summary: When they first met Flip’s immediate thought had been, this rookie is too confident for his own good , the kind of confidence that could get a man killed in their line of work. Then Ron had just kept on bringing it every damn day and sailed through it all on that neverending confidence. Without it he never could have tricked the klan like he did. Then somewhere along the line things changed.





	Here Comes Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to be apologizing a lot lately. Oh well, can't be nothing but sunshine and roses. Hope this satisfies your need for firsts Atlin
> 
> Enjoy

When they first met Flip’s immediate thought had been, _this rookie is too confident for his own good_ , the kind of confidence that could get a man killed in their line of work. Then Ron had just kept on bringing it every damn day and sailed through it all on that neverending confidence. Without it he never could have tricked the klan like he did. Then somewhere along the line things changed.

 

Flip had know from the start that Ron was just too smart and beautiful for someone like him to stand a chance if that had been possible, so he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s difficult doing that when you end up being partnered together, but he thought he’d done pretty good pretending in the face of his attraction, until Ron laid one on him under the mistletoe and Flip was ready to get mad about it then Ron kissed him again and moved on like they hadn’t just done something that could get them both fired.

 

A week later he’d done it again before Flip was to go undercover for something that could go south real quick. For good luck, he’d said and by all means, it worked. He came out of that one with not so much as a scratch in the paint.

 

The first time they made out Flip was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for a unit of uniforms to kick down the door and drag him away, revealing that Ron had been playing him all along. That didn’t happen either and they continued necking right through the commercials until the game came back on. He figured that would be a one off occurrence too.

 

When Eve took a shine to Ron he knew he wouldn’t be able to let go all that easy if Ron decided he’d had enough. That old cat didn’t like anyone but him, and Ron apparently, not even Jimmy has been able to charm her in all the years they’ve known each other. Eve dictated most things in his life and when she decided Ron was good enough to keep Flip agreed without question.

 

That’s how Ron became even more of a staple in his everyday life and he gathers the courage to ask for it instead of waiting for Ron to make the move.

 

It was after that they started holding hands on occasion and Flip really loved that part. Still does. Loves seeing the contrast between their skin, a representation of the impossible they’ve achieved with this relationship.

 

A year and a half later, they’ve achieved so much more and somehow gotten away with it all. He should have known it was going too well, something had to happen because people like him don’t get to be happy. That’s how it’s always been and always will be, even when he though they had a chance.

 

Now he’s sitting at Ron’s bedside watching the man breathe through a tube, he hasn’t been home in three days, refusing to miss out on the moment Ron either wakes up or doesn’t. That confidence has kept him sailing for a long time, but even that can’t block a bullet or two in the back. He’s lucky to have his spine intact, one of his kidneys weren’t as fortunate.

 

Every man in the department has been by with flowers and cards and they’ve all seen him sitting there like a hollowed out shell as he waits for God to decide what’s next, if he gets to have Ron until they’re old and grey like he’s been promised. Or if he’ll be left on his own with a broken heart that can’t take one more hit.

 

Jimmy’s been by more often, bringing him food, clothes, and updates on how Itsy is doing. Flip barely listens to any of it, too caught up in keeping an ear on the heart monitor, looking out for the slightest hitch. “Come on, Flip, you look like shit,” Jimmy is trying to talk him into a shower, “Smell like it too.” It’s not working.

 

“Don’t you want to look all nice for him when he wakes up?” he wheedles. “Maybe he’ll smell that cheap cologne of yours and get up to throw it in the trash.” The cologne in question is of course what he used to wear before Ron moved in and told him he’d throw away every last bottle until Flip agreed to wear something that suited his “natural scent” better. He caught a lot of flack for that, everyone having something to say about his new wife.

 

“Look, Flip, I know you love him, but sitting here like this isn’t helping either of you. Now I’m going to drive your ass home so you can shower and get some sleep or I will put you right next to him wearing his and hers hospital gowns,” that grabs his attention away long enough to look Jimmy in the face and he can practically feel his dirty clothes cracking with the movement.

 

“You know?” He thought they’d been so careful.

 

“Of course I fucking know, I can’t count all the times I’ve seen you sucking face like a couple of kids when you thought I was asleep,” he’d always felt like doing that had been a little too risky. “Besides, I’ve known you were left handed for years,” Jimmy smiles looking all too smug with his insight into Flip’s character.

 

“Oh,” This is the kind of revelation where he’d usually run off to deal with it, but right now all his focus is on the man fighting for his life and less so on the implications of his best friend knowing him better than he thought.

 

“Now come on, I already got two kids to worry about and I don’t need another one,” Jimmy’s grip on him is strong, pulling him out of the chair he’s been growing stuck to fast enough to make Flip’s head swim for a moment upon becoming upright.

 

Doing as he’s been told doesn’t make him feel much better about the whole situation, but a night spent in Jimmy’s guest room, twisting and turning in bed, does his bones good. Returning to that chair by Ron’s side he feels a lot less creaky and more prepared to handle it when a woman who can only be Ron’s mother walks in looking more tired than he does.

 

At first she doesn’t pay him any mind, making a beeline straight to her son, stroking a hand down the side of his still face before bending her head in prayer. A lump grows in his throat and he can’t seem to swallow it. He recognises it as fear, a sense of no longer belonging in this room, certain Ron’s mother doesn’t want to be faced with her son’s gay lover right now.

 

For the first time since they put Ron in that bed Flip leaves the room without a fight, making his way outside to the little garden where they take patients for walks. Another upside of spending a night at Jimmy’s is it gave him the opportunity to restock on smokes, something he sorely needs right now. It feels strange, almost, sitting here without Ron complaining in good humour about how he’s tired of kissing an ashtray. Flip would quit if he had the will power, maybe he should if Ron ever wakes up.

 

Each moment he spends away he grows more and more antsy, but the fear that still lurks in his chest keeps him glued to this little gravel path he’s been circling for what feels like hours, but could only have been minutes because he’s still on his first smoke. The weather is appropriately grey for the occasion so he’s the only one out here for now, feeling more and more like he needs to expel this energy on something, anything. Fucking, fighting, screaming, shouting. Anything at all to ease the pressure before he cracks.

 

A cat slinks out of the bushes ahead, groomed and fat, no doubt belonging to someone living nearby. When he crouches to call them over they come with no hesitation, eager for a little attention. It’s nice to have one black cat to keep him company when he can’t be with the one he’d prefer.

 

He’s on his third smoke and feeling mildly dizzy when a stern figure makes itself known in the corner of his eye. Ron’s mother is a tall, heavy set woman, radiating an attitude you don’t want to tempt into a fight, there’s also an underlying softness there, her eyes tired after so much grief in a short period of time. Even if he isn’t what she wanted for her son they still have one thing in common at the moment.

 

“Come back inside, you oughta be there when that fool wakes up.” She doesn’t wait for an answer just turns right back around expecting him to follow.

 

So he does.

 

Ron still looks the same as when he left, pale and waxy, Flip hates seeing him so unkempt. It’s him that should be in that bed, he’s older, has lived longer, is less important in every way. Still, he knows there’s no use feeling guilty about it now, it won’t help.

 

Together they wait, him and Maybel, sat in a drab hospital room hoping and praying they’ll get their man back.

 

That afternoon the doctors take the tube out of Ron’s throat and they spend a few hours keeping constant watch to make sure Ron keeps breathing without it. He does, a little shallow, but slow and steady. A good sign. It’s a few hours later, when the sun has set and the hospital is running on bare bones, that he wakes up.

 

Maybel is asleep in the single chair and Flip is too busy watching him breathe to notice until Ron moves, turning those glassy, unfocused eyes on him. Flip doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast in his life, his scramble to be at Ron’s side waking Maybel when he nearly trips over her stretched out legs.

 

And then, not for the first time, Flip does something monumentally stupid when Ron gives him a weak smile. He kisses Ron in front of his mother. Softly and carefully, scared he’ll put Ron right back to sleep if he presses a little harder. “Hey, Flip,” Ron rasps and the dam breaks.

 

Every ounce of tired and held back emotion seems to catch up to him at once, he moves back to let Maybel forth so he can drop into the now vacant chair and rub his tears away before they fall, try to process that what he’d prepared for isn’t going to happen after all. The relief he feels giving him a high he hasn’t felt since Ron let those three little words slip for the first time.

 

They’ll be alright, and like Ron had said when he came back from El Paso; no more regrets for life is short.

 


End file.
